


At Your Disposal

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, mhunter10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:39:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian is pissed and Mickey is fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Your Disposal

"Ugh! Mickey!" Ian yelled from their kitchen.

Mickey came running in, half-concern half-annoyance on his face. “What?”

Ian turned away from the sink, “How many times do I have to tell you not to put food down the sink?”

Mickey didn’t know how to answer that because…well, he was guilty. He averted his eyes and tried his best to make his face do that puppy thing the man in front of him pulls off so well, but Ian just rolls his eyes.

"It’s not gonna work, Mick. I invented that look." He sighed and went back to trying to pick slimy, definitely-bad leftover Chinese from the drain.

"You can’t invent your face…" Mickey deflected, hoping that would get him somewhere. It didn’t.

Ian grimaced as he chucked whatever he’d fished out into the garbage on the floor next to him. “Well I’m gonna re-invent yours if you don’t quit it. It screws up the garbage disposal and it’s already shitty enough. I thought about sticking your hand in here while I turned it on, but it wouldn’t even hurt you.”

Mickey’s eyes went wide for a second. “Shit. That was harsh…”

Ian ran the water in the hopes the rest would just un-stick itself so he didn’t have to touch it anymore, then turned back to Mickey; locking him with his gaze and crossing his arms. “And another thing, why don’t you ever flush the toilet?”

Mickey’s mouth popped open in surprised offense. “That’s bullshit! I always flush!”

"Not at night." Ian was scary when he was angry-calm. That was the worst kind of angry. It was real.

"Sometimes I do…"

"But mostly you don’t."

Mickey looked at Ian for a long beat. “Why does it matter?”

Ian let out an exasperated laugh. He was so not in the mood for this shit right now. “Because how hard is it to push down a fucking handle, Mickey?” He gestured his hand in the direction of the bathroom and gave his boyfriend and incredulous look.

Mickey stood there biting his lip and trying not to look directly at the redhead, but he was getting mad now.  Who did he think he was yelling at him like he was a kid? He ought to deck him right now.

Ian stepped closer, his height really showing, waiting for an answer. “Why, Mickey?”

"Because I—," Mickey started to yell.

"Because you what?"

Mickey let out a heavy breath. “Because you get up early and I don’t want to wake you.” He looked away, embarrassed by how weird that sounded.

Ian stared at him for a few more seconds before completely deflating. All the anger just immediately gone from him. His shoulders came down and he ran a hand through his hair.

He fucked up.

"Look, I’m sorry, Mick. I’m already really stressed at work right now, and I come home and this little shit upsets me. I overreacted, but I keep telling you these things and it’s like you’re not listening to me."

Mickey looked up, surprised. “Why would you think that?”

Ian sighed. “Exactly. I shouldn’t because I know you do listen, so that makes me more mad. But at myself.”

Mickey nodded his head slowly. He looked down. “I may not always be, like, listening, but….like, I hear you. Okay? Does that make sense?”

Ian nodded. “Mhm.”

"C’mere," Mickey held his arms out and waited for Ian to step into them, then closed them around him, "…I’m sorry."

"Me too," Ian said into his shoulder quietly. "I’ve been so crazy lately, but I don’t mean to take it out on you."

Mickey shook his head and rubbed Ian’s back. “Nah, I deserve it sometimes. The sink was my fault.”

"Maybe if I get this promotion, I can just buy a better garbage disposal that’ll make a smoothie out of anything we put down there."

Mickey snorted. “I don’t think they would even approve something like that.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey tighter. “True. But it’d be kind of cool, right?”

"Not if you were serious about wanting to stick my hand down there." Mickey laughed nervously.

Ian went still for a second. “I actually wasn’t thinking about your hand when I said that…”

Mickey stopped caressing the muscles in the other man’s back and held him away so he could see his face. “You wouldn’t have…”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know, Mick. I was pretty pissed. I still am.”

Mickey let him go and back away almost out of the kitchen. “What? Why? I said I was sorry!”

"Yeah, you did. And the not flushing at night thing is sweet of you, but you still need to be punished." He was inching closer and closer to Mickey.

Mickey held his hands out and started to back away. “No, no! I’m sorry! Ian, just…quit playing! C’mon, Ian!”

Ian lunged at him and grabbed him around his thighs, lifting him up and over his shoulder.

"Gallagher, put me down! Now! I swear to God, Ian!"

Ian wasn’t listening. He just continued to walk with Mickey thrown over his shoulder, kicking and struggling and cursing, until he got to their room and closed the door behind him.


End file.
